Chaos
by RoniMikaelson
Summary: Taken. Experimented on. Used. After years of torment, an assassin escapes from her captors into a new world. She has a connection to the famous Captain America that puts her on the radar of powerful organizations. When the Avengers Initiative is started, she finds herself with a choice: to stand and fight or to continue to run. On Hiatus
1. Breaking Free

**_Disclaimer: anything you recognize, I do not own_**

* * *

 _We are but dust and shadow._ Dust is blown about. Shadows are mere illusions. Human life was temporary and thinking it was anything else was delusional. So why did time drag on for her? Why had she lived so long in body yet so shortly in mind? Why was she being so melodramatic?

She banged her head against the wall she was sitting against. It hurt, just enough to keep her awake and keep her focused on the things that mattered. Like the fact she was stick in a hot metal room that was reminiscent of a cage. Her blonde hair clung to her face with sweat; her tank top was sticking to her back in a very uncomfortable manner. The least her captors could do was install an air conditioner for her.

It all started with the mission she was given. It was simple mission by the standards she'd learned to live by. She had a strong suspicion it was just given to her to make sure she had something to do. She got antsy when she was bored. It wasn't supposed to be hard. Plant backpack bombs around the building and blow them when they was a safe distance away. But they hadn't told her that her target was holding a charity event for children. She never got information on her target; she just knew that Hydra wanted him out of the way. They hadn't told her that she would be killing dozens of children.

It was the first time she had refused to do anything. The shock that her handlers had been given at her refusal was probably the only thing that kept them from shooting her on sight when she returned, the bombs and detonator still in her backpack. Instead, they took her back to base in confusion and she'd found herself in this cell.

She was defective. She was a failure.

Her thought process had always been simple and precise before, her emotions rarely surfaced. That was how she was trained, how she was _programmed_. But now, she was thrilled. She didn't care that everyone thought she was useless. She had fought back. She had become her own person. Of course, now she was going to die, or worse. But she was still smug about the whole situation… and scared. Those two emotions were having a sparing match in her head, not something she was used to or fond of.

She kept her fist closed, resting it on her knee. In her fist was a small screw. She had worked her fingers bloody getting it off the door, but it was worth it. She had a weapon for when they came to get her.

She became even more alert when she heard footsteps outside the door. Her knuckles were white around the small screw, her other hand was closed into a fist as well and her fingernails were digging into her palm, drawing blood. But she stayed sitting, waiting for the door to open. They wouldn't open the door if she was anywhere near it, so she was going to have to face them head-on. It didn't matter.

Then she heard the voices.

"Can we wipe her again?" _Pierce._ The voice almost made her lose all her confidence. Almost. He was one of the heads of Hydra, the one responsible for everything that had happened to her.

The word 'wipe' suggested they were going to take her memories, because she had no memories that were important to them. She couldn't pinpoint any memories that were important to her either. The word 'again' was what really caught her attention. They hadn't wiped her before. She would've remembered… but no, that was the point. How many times had they taken her memories, the only thing she had that were _hers_?

Some small part of her hoped the answer would be 'no', for whatever reason. Even though that would mean termination. Fighting for her life, she could do. Getting her memories wiped? That was a variable she wasn't prepared for. But she never had much luck when it came to getting what she wanted.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Do _her_ quickly, then put her in cryo. I'm done with her." He ordered. _Her._ Never a name. Not even a code-name. Just _her_. And then there was the word 'cryo'. The freezing tube that kept her looking like a teenager for who knew how long. Pierce was done with her. She'd caused too much trouble. That smug feeling came back, but not for long. She didn't intend to go quietly, but she wasn't sure if there was another choice except for to go.

As if on queue, heavy footsteps sounded. Agents coming to collect her. The metal covering on a small section on the door opened, almost falling off in the agents' hand; that was where she'd gotten the screw. Eyes peered in at her suspiciously, with more than a little hesitance. She wondered what the poor agents had done to get themselves stuck with the job of trying to take her. She stared back at them, smirking a little, daring them. With no other choice, the door slowly slid open and five agents walked in. She pushed herself to her feet and stood where she was. _Who's the brave soul who's going to approach me first?_ She wondered, her eyes scanning the men in front of her. Body armor, rifles, side-arms… They looked like they had just gotten out of a war zone… or gone into one.

Finally, one stepped forward, arm out to grab her. She stabbed the screw into his eye socket and he went down with a scream. It had to have hurt. The scream was really something. It probably should've sparked some sort of remorse in her. It didn't. She had grabbed his side-arm before any of the others could react. Loud gunshots were nothing new to her, even in closed spaces after so much silence. She fired a shot off without hesitation and the thump of a body hitting the ground did even less for her. She threw the gun into the face of a third agent. She grabbed the last one by the hair and brought his face into his knee. Grabbing his knife from his belt, she made quick work of the still living agents. Only one gun, her own, had been fired, she had sustained no injures and she had no regret. That was the way Hydra had trained her. A rush of adrenaline surged through her; she was actually fighting Hydra. She ran out of the room, knife in hand.

Pierce and the doctor were halfway down the hall, but had turned at the sound of gunfire. Pierce stared at her and she looked at him. Then she took off in the opposite direction, her shoulders brushing against each wall of the claustrophobic hallway. If someone shot at her… Well, it would be nearly impossible to miss.

She ducked around the corner as soon as she saw it and looked around. There was an air vent above her. She leapt up, grabbed the grate and it popped off in her hand. She scrambled into the airshaft and started army-crawling her way forward. Her mind started working mechanically, on instinct alone. She made good time going through the airshaft, reaching her destination right before the alarms starting going off. She pulled the grate off and dropped down into the hallway. She was three floors above where she had been and all the guards that had rushed to try and contain her were long gone. She kept moving.

Up a flight of a stairs… Dispose of two surprised agents… Grab a second knife…. Keep moving. Around corners, past doors. She found the door she wanted and kicked it open, dropping and sliding on the floor to avoid two armed guards on either side of the door. She threw the knives behind her; she didn't need to look to knew they'd found their marks in the bodies of the guards. There was only one doctor in the room and he was hardly a threat. Yet, she still had to take him out, for revenge if nothing else. She jumped up and grabbed the doctor by the throat. He tried to choke out something that sounded like 'please don't hurt me', but she was too busy slamming him against the ground to care. She held him there with a vice-like grip, his feeble hits and kicks doing nothing against her. Once he passed out from lack of oxygen, she stood up and ran to a metal container against the wall.

 _How do I get him out?_ She had never done anything like this in all her years at Hydra. She had never fought back, she had never wondered how to get out, how to get the only person that she even remotely cared for out.

The Winter Soldier had been in cryo longer than she cared to know; he was only used for the _big_ jobs. He was the best gun in their arsenal. The doctor had been checking his vitals, but he hadn't been preparing to open the container. She had a feeling it was more complicated than just flipping off a power switch.

Pain shot through her shoulder and she fell against the container, sliding down into a kneeling position. Blood was gushing out of a brand new gunshot wound; her head whipped around towards Pierce as he strode into the room, gun in hand. _That's just like Pierce, wanting to handle his little toys on his own, unafraid,_ she thought. She cradled her arm against her chest, pressing her palm against the front of her shoulder to try and staunch the bleeding, but her eyes were glaring at Pierce.

"Sputnik." Shutdown code. Immediately, she started to slouch over, fighting to stay alert and determined. _No, no, I am not just going to shut down_ , she told herself. She banged her head against the container, hard enough to really hurt, hard enough to keep her awake. Pierce made a disappointed clicking sound with his tongue.

She kept her eyes trained on him, even as she clenched her fists so tightly her palms bled under the pressure of her fingernails. Her head was ringing, her shoulder was aching and now her hands hurt. But she was still conscious.

"I don't want to have to put you down." Pierce told her, as casually as if they were discussing the weather over a cup of tea. The words he didn't say rang out loud and clear: _but I will if I have to._

"Put me down. Go ahead! You've used me long enough!" She didn't care if she was dramatic, she didn't care if he was about to shoot her, she didn't care about any of it.

 _How long have I being working for them?_ The days and weeks had blurred together, waking up and going into cryo, the first good portion of her life involved getting her blood drawn and being put through a series of physical tests, though those stopped after a while… It was all a blur of pain and death and her naïve way of thinking. She had let them manipulate her. How many people had she killed? She had gotten too long of a leash. She had seen the world she was helping to destroy. She had slacked on her training. She had been awake too long, left with her thoughts. _She was dangerous._ To the world, to Hydra, to herself. To everyone. And she didn't care anymore. So she stared at Pierce, her eyes daring for him to shoot her, to loose one of his prized weapons. He would have to explain that to the heads of Hydra and she would die with the satisfaction that he had _failed._

"Oh, you're being dramatic." Pierce complained, rolling his eyes. She leapt up and charged him. Obviously, he wasn't expecting her to do that. Still, he managed to pull the trigger a split second before she tackled him to the ground.

Pain shot through her side as she wrestled the gun out of Pierce's hand. After a long moment, both of them lost their grip on it. The gun slid across the floor, so she settled for trying to punch him out. He kept blocking her, striking back at her with surprising strength. She'd never thought of him as a fighter. He grabbed her upper arm, putting too much pressure on her bullet wound for her to take. She rolled onto her back on the floor, but he wasn't done with her yet. He kneeled over her, punching her again and again, trying to beat her into submission.

She brought one leg up, kicking him in the back of the head. A fist to the throat. Her knee to the small of his back. He rolled off her and she jumped at the chance to cause him some pain. She punched him. Again. Again. So many times she lost count. At some point, she realized he was unconscious. She debated beating him to death, but the pain in her side and shoulder shot down that idea. She rolled over onto her back again, breathing deeply and trying to refocus her thoughts. _The Winter Soldier._

Somehow, she managed to get herself upright again and stumbled over to the container. _There has to be a way to get him out, there has to be a button, a switch, something!_ She searched all over the surface of the container and then went to the computer. She didn't understand anything the screen was telling her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her hand against the wound on her side. The bullet had merely grazed her side, there was no way it could have hit anything important. Other than her body, of course. Still, it hurt. The wound on her shoulder was still practically gushing blood.

Opening her eyes with some effort, she stared at the computer screen and then up at the cryo chamber. _He wouldn't leave you,_ she told herself. But she also remembered what the man that had trained her had always told her: keep yourself alive, no matter what. He wouldn't want her to die, not like this. He probably would have had a tizzy fit if he'd seen the way she'd just sat there, daring Pierce to kill her. _The Winter Soldier having a tizzy fit…_ That would've been a sight to see. She hit the table the computer was on with her fists. The blood from the people she'd already punched out dripped off her knuckles, the blood from her own wounds quickly rolling down her arm to join the pool. Watching her blood mingle with that of Hydra agents put her in a daze of sorts. Seconds later, it broke her out of that daze. She was done mingling with Hydra. She raised her eyes to look at the container.

"I'm sorry." Then she ran.

She fought what agents she had to, making her way through the tunnels that led her up into another less than secure building. It was an old store, dusty racks of clothing were still there but the windows were boarded up. This was all on purpose; in case an emergency forced Hydra to bring everyone up. They would have to ditch their Hydra patches and uniforms and exchange them for normal clothes. There was something for everyone, which suited her well. There was no way she'd been able to fit into something meant for another agent without looking like a five year old in her dad's clothing. She was tall, for a girl, but she was still skinny and lean. And a _girl._ For whatever reason, she rarely saw another female Hydra agent.

She ripped up old t-shirts for bandages, managing to stop most of the bleeding, though her entire face was still throbbing and bleeding from the beating Pierce had given her. She squirmed out of the leggings and tight black tank top she'd been given, exchanging them for regular jeans and a loose t-shirt that would hopefully hide her bandaged wounds.

After she had finished, she pushed the door open and walked out into the abandoned street. Russia. She knew her location from her failed mission, but that was pretty much all she knew. It was something to work off from, at least. So she started out at a brisk run to put some distance between her and Hydra.

* * *

She walked until her feet hurt so much that she couldn't go on. Her side ached, her shoulder was burning and she now had blisters on her feet. _Perfect way to start the day,_ she thought as she collapsed on the sidewalk. The sun was rising and that would bring people out onto the street no doubt. But she decided she would risk resting for a moment. Besides, she needed to think and plan.

Hydra was going to be looking for her. How long until they stopped? Possibly never. _Well, it's not like I know what a normal life is like anyway,_ she mused. She checked her arm; the bleeding had stopped and she could ignore the pain. She didn't want to take the bandage off her side; she would never get the bleeding stopped if it started again. So she retied the fabric around the wound on her shoulder and left it at that.

She was a fugitive, sure, but there was no way Hydra was getting anyone else involved in this. She would have loved to see how that conversation would go:

"Excuse me, police; we've seemed to have misplaced our assassin."

So she only had to worry about one enemy. Everything about her would be kept pretty quiet, only the heads of Hydra would know how dangerous she really was. So she was fairly safe, by her calculations. Still, she was going to have to prepare herself to be hunted down like an animal.

There. She was prepared. _Bring it on, Hydra,_ she thought, now only halfheartedly smug. With some effort, she pushed herself to her aching feet and started walking.

* * *

 _ **A/N So this is an idea that's been rattling around my head for a while and I've written and rewritten more times than I care to count. I'm finally happy with this version of it, though I'm sure it could still be better. But it's out in the world now and I intend to continue and go all the way through the Marvel movies with it.**_

 _ **There will be five chapters as sort of an intro and explanation of how she fits into the Avengers universe, then it will start with the first Avengers movie.**_

 _ **I love reviews, so please tell me what you think. If you have any questions, I'd be happy to answer them.**_

 _ **~ RoniMikaelson**_


	2. Bound by Blood

**_Disclaimer: anything you recognize, I do not own_**

* * *

"We've got a breach in sector two." A tech called out to a passing Maria Hill. She cursed under her breath and turned back to him. She was used to being Fury's right-hand woman, running SHIELD bases was below her. Still, until they got a replacement, Fury wanted her to watch all the deadly weapons, new fangled technology and top-secret files.

"It was probably an animal of some kind." It wasn't the first time a perimeter alarm had gone off. The first couple times, she'd told everyone to go to their battle stations, grabbed herself a gun and headed out there. Turns out it was a rather stubborn squirrel that she and her men then had to spend two hours herding away from the facility. And those suckers bite…

"Uh… I don't think so, ma'am." She went over to look at the screen. A dark, blurred image sped past camera. An alarm blared as she moved into the facility itself. Hill straightened up, all business now.

"I thought all outside doors were locked!"

"Uh… They were… I mean… Yeah, they were. She shot off the lock."

"More thousands of dollars than I care to count worth of technology goes into every SHIELD base and we can't stop someone from gaining access with one gun?" Hill's question wasn't aimed at the tech, but he seemed to take personal offense, looking like a kicked puppy. She rolled her eyes at him. "Get our men over there; tell them I want this person alive. I want to know what they think they're doing, breaking into a top secret base."

"Yes, ma'am." The tech stammered and then began to speak to the agents through his radio.

"What's the situation?" Hill turned towards Romanoff and Barton as they hurried into the room.

"Someone broke in. We've got our men handling it. Fury didn't tell me that he was sending you in." Hill tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice; she was a competent enough leader, but it seemed that this week was intent on making her look like an idiot.

"We're just passing through, needed a place to crash before we moved on." Barton explained.

"Do you want us to handle the security breach?" Natasha added.

"Our guys have it handle-."

"Ma'am, our guys are down." Hill counted to ten her head and resisted the urge to punch that tech in the face.

"Want us to-?" Barton started.

"Yes!" She interrupted, angry already. Looking slightly amused, Barton and Natasha turned on their heels and ran through the door they'd come in by.

* * *

Jogging up a short flight of stairs, the former Hydra assassin was trying to remember any base that had even resembled the place she was going through now. She was coming up with a blank, but that didn't mean Hydra hadn't changed its design plans.

Rounding a corner, she had to duck back quickly at what she saw. It was too late; the two people coming down the hallway had spotted her and broken into a dead sprint; they obviously thought she was already moving. She slid down the wall until she was kneeling on the floor and only had to wait about a second before throwing her leg out. She tripped the man, giving him a kick in the face for good measure before jumping up to face the woman, who was more than ready for her with a punch to the throat. She stumbled back a couple steps, stunned, then angry. Natasha swung out, but missed as the other assassin ducked. She grabbed Natasha's arm, twisted it and rammed her knee into the small of Natasha's back. Using her arm and Natasha's stumble forward as leverage, the blonde easily threw her down the stairs. Natasha had barely hit the floor below before she was rolling and standing up again.

"Alright, Blondie. Let's go." Natasha encouraged. So-called Blondie's lips twitched up into a smirk. Before she could take a single step, a heavy body slammed into her from behind. She and Barton tumbled down the stairs, the edges of the steps hitting them in the worst possible places. Natasha rushed forward, knowing the blonde wasn't going to stay down for long. Blondie was already on her feet by the time Natasha reached for them, more than ready to block Natasha's hits and kicks, sending out a few well placed ones of her own.

Natasha hated retreating; it showed weakness and fear. But she had little choice. Barton was still groaning and getting to his feet and the blonde was more skilled than Natasha had given her credit for. So Natasha retreated, backing down the hallway. The blonde followed easily and their fight continued for several feet until Natasha, finally, saw an opening. She took it and landed a hit right in the blonde's gut. She doubled over ever so slightly, stunned momentarily. Natasha served her a roundhouse kick right to the head. The blonde fell onto the floor, then flip-kicked herself up. She was angry now and Natasha knew it. When someone got angry, they made mistakes. This blonde was no exception.

Natasha got in more hits. More kicks. A fist to the jaw sent the girl to the ground again and this time she didn't get back up right away. Barton was at Natasha's side in a second, aiming his bow at the blonde. She rolled over onto her stomach, spitting out blood.

"Nice, Nat." He told her.

"Thanks." She said breathlessly, resisting the urge to add a sarcastic 'for nothing'. She knew it would've have been nearly impossible to integrate himself into that fight. Fighting was a dance and three people couldn't fit into one dance.

She stared down at the blonde and had the urge to land a few blows on the girl while she was down, but that was generally looked down upon in SHIELD. She was down, she had a weapon pointed on her, now was not the time to be beating her to a bloody pulp. Still, Natasha studied her, considering the idea. She saw a flash of metal in the girl's hand.

"Move!" She pushed Barton aside as hard as she could and the knife sunk into her shoulder instead. She fell against the nearest wall, her hand flying up to the knife embedded in her flesh. Barton jumped up and shot his arrow. Blondie caught it, her gloved hand closing around the shaft an inch before the arrowhead would have gone into her face.

She held up the arrow and looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"This is the twenty-first century! What are you doing with a bow and arrow?" She demanded, annoyed. Barton swung his bow at her, hoping to hit her in the face. She side-stepped out of the way and kicked him on the backside, which was as insulting as it was painful. As he went down, he swung his leg out to trip her. She jumped over his leg easily, as if she'd expected that move. Which, she might've, Barton realized. She had some kind of training, something that reminded him of Natasha in a way.

Something small and silver flew past Barton's field of vision and hit the blonde in the shoulder. It was a disk, with an electrical charge to boot. Blondie hit the floor, stiff and then limp. Barton looked over at Natasha and then leapt into action, helping her to her feet.

He tapped his radio.

"Hill."

" _Barton, report._ "

"We got her. Nat's injured, I'm taking her to the med-bay." He wasn't sure if that was what they actually called the small hospital room off from the lab, but it sounded good.

" _I'll send some people to grab the girl._ "

"Oh, so you did have more guys?" Barton tried not to sound annoyed, but failed.

" _If you two couldn't handle it…_ " Hill left it there; they were the best agents SHIELD had. Barton rolled his eyes as he helped Natasha stumble towards the med-bay.

"We handled it, alright, but an army would have been nice."

* * *

Natasha sat on the edge of the hospital-style bed, rolling her shoulders and then wincing. Barton sat on a chair in front of her, twirling an arrow around in his hand. The girl had done a number on her, whether she was willing to admit it or not. Barton, however, couldn't _stop_ admitting it.

"That girl can fight." Barton finally stated the obvious. Natasha glared at him.

"I noticed." She gingerly touched the bandage on her shoulder; the doctor had prescribed rest and relaxation, but he obviously didn't know her. She was intent on getting into the interrogation room as soon as possible. She could tell already that that girl was going to be hard to get information out of. Hard, not impossible, if they let her take a crack at it.

Hill walked into the room, arms folded tightly across her chest. They both turned to look at her but she shook her head immediately.

"She hasn't said anything yet."

"I can make her talk-." Natasha started, getting off the bed. Hill held up a hand.

"We're going to leave her there for a while. Eventually, everyone gets claustrophobic and lonesome. She'll be more talkative if we leave her alone." She explained.

"A claustrophobic assassin searching for love. Just what we needed." Barton said dryly.

"Can't have too many assassins in this business." Neither of them could tell if Hill was joking or not and she changed the subject immediately, "The point is, she was looking for something."

"Doesn't this place house a lot of tech?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah, but I can't imagine how she would know about that. Sure, rumors spread about what's going on here. If she knew what she was looking for, she could have pieced together that we're running a base here, but I doubt she could have learned what we're keeping here."

"She's a little young to be an assassin." Barton put in.

"I was younger." Natasha told him quietly.

"We're running a DNA test now; see if she matched anyone we have in the system. With any luck, that'll give us some answers."

"Did she kill anyone?"

"No, but transferred some of our agents to a nearby hospital. They need some pretty extensive medical care." Barton didn't doubt it; his head was still throbbing and Natasha had a knife wound to prove the girl's danger level. Hill motioned towards the door.

"We collected her things, including the stuff she left right outside our perimeter. Would you like to see it?"

"Yes." Natasha said immediately, so Barton pushed himself to his feet and followed the ladies out to the lab. Sitting on a table was a backpack, with the stuff they'd found on her piled up against it. Natasha headed over and started sorting through the stuff, tossing it into another pile once she was done with it. Barton watched, noting each object she threw aside.

The jacket she'd been wearing, which landed with a clanking sound that told him there were knives in each and every pocket. The boots they took off her, combat-boots, naturally. In the backpack, there was a change of clothes, a large plastic bag full of food and a canteen of water. Natasha tossed each of the items aside and then reached back in. She pulled out a sword. Serrated edge, about two feet long; it could do some serious damage and Natasha didn't want to imagine it in the hand of its owner.

"The KGB didn't train us to fight with weapons like these. It was all guns and hand-to-hand." Natasha told them, tossing the empty backpack aside.

"So we can rule out the KGB?" Hill clarified. Natasha nodded.

"So there's someone else training kids to kill people. How comforting." Barton said sarcastically.

"She's not a kid." Natasha protested.

"She's what, eighteen, nineteen tops? In my mind, that's a kid."

"She's not a kid."

"I won't tell anyone you got beat up by a kid if you don't want-."

"Enough, both of you." Hill interrupted. They both fell silent, Natasha shooting a dirty look at Barton.

A lab tech came hurrying over, a tablet in hand. He looked like he lost some of his courage when he saw that Natasha and Hill were both angry, but he managed to walk up to them anyway. Hill crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly, hoping for good news.

"You won't believe this." He said excitedly, pushing his glasses up his nose with his free hand.

"What is it?" Hill demanded, in no mood for anything that didn't move this security threat case along.

"I put her DNA through the system, right? It didn't come up with a match for her, but it did come up with two partial matches."

"What do you mean, how is that possible?" Barton asked.

"Do you know how a paternity test works? It tests DNA and-."

"I'm sure we're all aware how that works. Can you get to the point?" Hill asked impatiently.

"Right, of course. Running her DNA through the system got us her parents."

"Her parents were in the system? Like, SHIELD agents?" Natasha demanded, staring at the stuff piled in front of her as if the backpack held all the answers in the universe. _How could the daughter of SHIELD agents turn into some kind of assassin breaking into SHIELD facilities?_ She wondered. As she pondered the most probable options, she vaguely heard the lab tech say two names. Her head snapped up, echoing his words in shock.

"Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers?"

* * *

The disgraced assassin sat handcuffed to a table, which wasn't the most uncomfortable position she'd been in. The stinging headache, throbbing mouth and acute feeling of discomfort in the back of her neck weren't the worst she'd had either, so she ignored them. She stared at the one-way glass window in front of her, using it like a mirror as she examined herself. The red head had gotten her good; there was already a bruise forming on her jaw and… _Is my skin always that pale?_ Her programming from Hydra was wearing off; she was able to get distracted again, which was more of a luxury than she'd ever realized before. _My skin is definitely pale,_ she decided. They'd taken her jacket, and shoes, and the black of her tank top really set off her pale tone. Her thought process continued on that way for a moment, before she bowed her head to the table. With her handcuffed hands, she slipped the bobby-pin out of her hair and started picking the lock on her handcuffs.

She held up her hands to the one-way window, showing off that she was no longer handcuffed. When no one came rushing through the door to restrain her again, she figured no one was watching from the other side of the window. She stood up and tucked the bobby-pin back into place behind her ear. It didn't hold any hair back; that was the point, someone would have to be looking for it to take it from her.

She tried the door first, just for giggles. It was locked up tight, not even a keyhole she could get her bobby-pin into. She'd expected that. So, stooping down, she leisurely examined the table and chair. Neither one was bolted to the ground. _Idiots,_ she thought, trying not to laugh. She picked up the chair, testing its weight. Metal, pretty heavy, probably to try and prevent someone from throwing it. She set it down on the floor again, took a breath and then picked it back up. She flung it against the window as hard as she could. It sailed right through the class, bouncing off the table behind it and falling to the floor with a clatter. She climbed over the ledge, ignoring the glass shards.

The door on the other side of the ledge wasn't locked, so she pushed it open and strode into the hallway.

"So what can we call you?" Hill asked from the far end of the hallway. Natasha and Barton flanked her, each heavily armed and looking angry, but also somewhat intrigued.

The blonde thought fast, remembering with a start that she _didn't have a name._ What had the Winter Soldier called her? His тень. She said it aloud, her Russian accent perfect.

"Uh… Nat?" Barton questioned, not taking his eyes off the girl.

" _Shadow_." Natasha translated, glaring.

"You speak English?" Hill questioned.

"Yeah. What's it to you?" She still had a hint of an accent, but it wasn't like she was stumbling through the English words either.

"Good." Hill glanced down at her tablet as if to reconfirm something she already knew. "Do you want to know what we learned about you?"

"I know all I need to know, but thanks." Shadow said dryly, hands clenched into fists at her sides. The floor was cold against her bare feet and the cold air from the vent above her was actually stinging her bare shoulders. They'd taken her stuff, which annoyed her to no end. She didn't have a lot, but the things she did have, she didn't like people touching.

"We ran a DNA test." Hill continued, like she didn't even care that she was facing an assassin. She watched Shadow's expression carefully. There was a flicker of curiosity, but that was gone as soon as it came.

"You took my blood without permission."

"Next time, keep your blood off our floors."

"Keep your floor away from my blood." She shot back without missing a beat.

"We found your parents. You want to know their names? Pretty important people." Hill mused, baiting her. A look of consideration flashed across Shadow's face but then it was gone. "You were an active missing person's case for decades, starting in 1948. Now, we can more about you once you talk to us about why you're here. Information for information."

There was dead silence in the hallway for a minute and, for a split second; Hill thought that Shadow might cooperate. Then the assassin was off and running the opposite direction. Hill cussed under her breath, but held up her arm to stop Natasha and Barton as they started to take chase.

"Let her go."

"Why?" Natasha growled, a murderous look in her eye.

"We put a tracker in her. She'll lead us right back to her base of operations."


	3. Game of Shadows

**_Disclaimer: anything you recognize, I do not own_**

* * *

"There is no way this is her base." Natasha protested as she and Barton climbed up the stairs to the second story of the motel. Agents were circling around back to cut off any escape she would have through windows.

"She's been holed up here for a week." Barton replied. Natasha had to admit that was odd, but there was something about the whole situation that just rubbed her wrong. Barton took the lead as they approached the door with the letter '19' on it. He kicked it open and they rushed in, weapons drawn.

The room was empty, but had an odd aroma about it that stung their noses. But there was no one there. They lowered their weapons and Barton started speaking into his radio. Natasha went into the bathroom and picked up the note left on the counter to read it.

 _Nice try, suckers_!

The tracking device, smaller than Natasha's thumbnail and covered in now dried blood, was sitting on the counter beneath the note. She seemed to have a sense of humor, for an assassin. Natasha called out to Barton and he poked his head in to examine what she'd left them.

"Well, she's smart." He noted.

"She's annoying." Natasha corrected. She threw the note into the trash and walked out in a huff, beginning to pace in the other room. "How are we supposed to track her now?"

"We don't. We only had one tracker in her and I doubt she'll be getting caught again."

"We didn't get any information out of her."

"You mean you didn't get to interrogate her."

"I wasn't that eager to serve her up a beating, Clint." Natasha protested, though her voice was less than sincere.

Thumps sounded from where their agents were stationed outside and, a second later, Shadow slipped through the window and smiled. She looked to be a great mood and healthy, if you could ignore the bandage on her neck from taking out the tracking device. She was wearing, of all things, a pair of mini shorts and a black lace top. It made her look quite nice; if only she could get something for her personality. Her blonde hair was pulled into a bouncy, perky ponytail. Natasha wanted it rip her hair right out.

Natasha and Barton aimed with gun and bow immediately. The girl just held up her hands, as if in surrender, and they both hesitated. Killing an unarmed target wanted for information was generally frowned upon. Shadow laced her fingers behind her head and looked very comfortable.

"I'll warn you, I was very well trained. I can kill people with my mind."

"You're insane." Natasha snarled, her finger twitching with the urge to just put this girl down.

"Am I?" Shadow looked appalled, like the thought had never crossed her mind before. "Alright. I can't. But I can with this." She pulled a barbeque lighter out of where it had, evidently, been strapped to her back. She flipped it on and a flame flickered to life at the end.

"You poured gasoline all over the room." Barton realized, the smell even more apparent. He had ignored it before; he was about to leave, the odd smell wasn't his problem. Shadow smiled.

"Atta boy." She cheered.

"You drop that, you burn too." Natasha reminded her.

"You shot me, I drop it for sure." Shadow shot right back.

"You'd have to hold the trigger down. You can't do that if you're dead." Shrugging, she pulled a very specifically cut piece of duck tape from the inside of her wrist and plastered it over the button. She took her finger off to show that the duck table did indeed hold it down and the flame continued to flicker atop it. Natasha glanced at Barton, who returned her look uneasily.

"How's that?" Shadow asked.

"You'll burn too." Natasha repeated.

"What makes you think I'm scared to die?" She said it with such seriousness it scared Natasha. The girl _wasn't bluffing._ She would drop that lighter if they so much as twitched. The girl looked like a cheerleader but acted like a psychopath.

Unimpressed with their lack of response, the girl dropped the lighter and Natasha and Barton jumped, but she snatched it with her other hand before it dropped more than a couple inches. Seeing their reaction, she laughed like this was the best joke in the world.

"What do you want?" Natasha asked, judging how fast she could make it across the room and grab that lighter after putting a bullet in the blonde's head.

"I just want two names. The names of my parents, to be exact." She shook the lighter in her hand threateningly. "And I'm not in a let's-make-a-deal kind of mood. Just fess up the names."

"Peggy Carter." Barton offered.

"I want both names, moron." She wasn't backing down, but she was kneeling down. She tipped the lighter towards the carpet, eyes on them. Natasha watched her. Burning to death was not the way she wanted to do. Barton had a family to get back to. They would have to live to fight another day. And that meant bowing down to a minor-league terrorist.

"Steve Rogers!" Natasha cried. The girl jerked the lighter back up from the carpet, processing this new information. Then her face broke into a smile.

"You've been incredibly helpful." She dropped the lighter, turned and swan dived out the window. Natasha yelled out on instinct, jumped back. The carpet slowly caught fire, but not like it would've had the carpet actually been soaked in gasoline. Barton leapt forward and grabbed the lighter.

"What happened?" Natasha asked. Barton stomped out the part of the carpet that had been on fire, sniffed experimentally and then stooped down. He pulled the covers up from where they hung over the edge of the bed. Underneath the bed were open cans of gasoline. Barton held up the blanket and it sagged. It was wet with gasoline, but it hadn't been near the flame itself. Natasha let out a breath of relief and hated herself for believing the girls bluff. Barton just shook his head and let the blankets drop.

"That girl's crazy… But she knows how to play people."

* * *

 _A needle jabbed into her skin and the girl flinched, turning her head away, as if not seeing it would make it hurt less. They drew a vial full of her blood and then slapped a bandage to prevent excess bleeding. She drew her arm back against her chest. The girl was used to this, but it didn't mean she liked it._

 _They had been running experiments on her since she'd arrived three years ago. Why? She had no idea. She just knew to avoid drawing attention to herself until they came to take her back to her room._

 _"Well?" The Hydra commander was impatient, to say the least._

 _"There's not enough in her blood to make a new serum." The scientist said before the test was even done; he knew what the results would show._

 _Enough of what in my blood? She wondered, though they would never answer that. She was either completely ignored or pushed, prodded and forced into physical experiments. Tears stung at her eyes, so she tried to focus on anything else. Crying wasn't allowed at Hydra._

 _"What do we do with her, sir?" The scientist asked, jerking his head towards the girl._

 _"Maybe she'll still be useful…" The commander mused, as if she couldn't hear them. She closed her eyes and pretended she couldn't._

 _"What should we call her?" The scientist wondered._

 _"She doesn't need a name. She's going to be a soldier. One of our best."_

* * *

Shadow jerked awake. She was lying in an alley, not the best place to sleep but it had felt safe. She sat up, resting her elbows on her knees. It made sense now, what they'd done to her. Steve Rogers. War hero. _Super soldier_. She wasn't completely oblivious to world events and she'd been studying up since her escape from Hydra. How could she be _his_ daughter? Of course, the news of being anyone's daughters was relatively new to her. She'd begun to believe she'd been made like any other weapon. Created. Not born.

 _Alright. I have this information. What do I do now?_ She wondered. Steve Rogers was dead. If Peggy Carter wasn't already, she was probably halfway there. She wasn't going to have anything resembling a family. Hydra took that from her. Hydra took everything from her. And it hurt. It hurt like a knife to the gut.

She had always had one goal: take down Hydra. How was she supposed to take down Hydra if she couldn't tell them apart from this other secret organization? One organization wanted to kill her, one just wanted information. It was confusing and it made her head hurt. Or maybe that was just the lack of decent food.

Shadow stood up, shouldered her backpack and headed out of the alley. Whatever she did, wherever she went, she was going to need money. Thankfully, she knew how to get money very easily. There were drug deals, muggers and more professional thieves running about. And who were they going to tell if she stole their money? _Excuse me, officer, but someone stole my money, can you help me? It'll be easy to track with the K-9 unit, it should smell like cocaine._

She let her backpack hang loose on one shoulder as she walked down the dark streets. It took an annoyingly long time before someone came running up behind her and tried to snatch the bag. _Finally, a taker!_ She pulled the backpack forward and the man went stumbling in front of her, at the perfect angle for a foot to the face. While he was doubled over, she landed a kick in between his legs.

While he was red-faced on the ground, she kneeled down beside him and grabbed the money sticking out of his sweatshirt pocket. She counted it up. It wasn't as much as she was hoping for, but it was certainly enough money for a bus fare. She tucked into the front pocket of her backpack.

"Thank you, you've been very helpful." With a final kick to the face to knock him unconscious, she tossed her hair and smiled to herself.

The nearest bus station wasn't far away. She jogged up to the ticket booth and tapped on the window. The tired looking woman behind the glass looked up at her.

"Where to?"

"Where's the furthest place from here?"

"You got someone I should call?" _Yes, because I would tell you that if I was a teenage runaway for sure!_ Shadow thought sarcastically.

"Going across country to visit Gramps. Want to limit my bus switching." It wasn't her best lie, but in her defense, she hadn't slept well. She added a dazzling, manipulative smile and the woman let it go.

"We got one going to New York City, leaving in two minutes. Sure that's the direction you want to go?"

"Positive." She stuck some money through the slot in the window and received a ticket in return. The woman pointed her towards the bus and Shadow headed off.

* * *

"After this, I'm cutting you off." Shadow's head jerked up as the waitress provided her with her requested refill. The café was infamous for it's free refills after nine p.m, but she was really only there for the free Wi-Fi and lack of other people.

"I can pay for them." She'd just taken out a few muggers two blocks back; she was practically rolling in money, at least by her standards.

"That's not what I'm worried about. If there's such a thing as caffeine poisoning, you're about to be admitted to a hospital."

"I'm fine." The waitress rolled her eyes and walked away. Shadow turned her eyes back to the screen, but soon, she had to leave anyway. She had hit a dead end with her research. What she knew now was all she was going to get. It was more than she'd ever thought she would get, for sure. But not enough to satisfy her. Her name had been Sarah Rogers, named after her paternal grandmother. Her father disappeared and was presumed dead in early 1945. She was born November 4th, 1945. She was reported missing mid 1947. That was all she knew. She didn't even have memories of this time at all. That was what ticked her off more than anything.

So she drained her coffee, grabbed her laptop and backpack, then headed out. New York streets were usually crowded, but it was late enough that there were few people out. Just the way Shadow liked it. For the first time in the life, she'd managed to get her own place. It was an apartment five stories up, two bedrooms, nice and cozy. And under a false name.

Footsteps sounded behind her, but Shadow didn't react. She went down for another block, listening as the footsteps followed her, and then crossed the street. When the footsteps still followed her, she rolled her eyes. _Idiots, idiots everywhere,_ she thought. Either this was a mugger, some kind of gang she'd pissed off or someone else equally as easy to take down. She let her backpack slip down her arm and slipped her hand into it. Once she got a grip on what she wanted, she slowed down, letting the footsteps catch up to her. She whirled, swinging her knife towards the man's throat. A foot impacted with her gut and she had to stumble backwards, grabbing at a second knife in her backpack. She focused in on the man in front of her. Six feet tall, muscular, a total idiot if he thought he could take her. She twirled her knives around her hands.

"You don't seem familiar. Are you sure I've angered you before?" Shadow questioned. He didn't answer and, in the silence, she heard more footsteps behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Two guys were coming up behind her. Three men total, nothing she couldn't handle and maybe they had money on them, which she could always use.

"You got sloppy. You thought we wouldn't find you!" The first man asked with grin, like he was actually confident. Maybe he was actually stupid enough to think he could handle her… More footsteps were coming from the alley to her right. Hydra agents were surrounding her, though they were carefully avoiding her knives.

Shadow leapt forward and slashed out with a knife, slitting a throat open. She stabbed behind her and got another man in his abdomen. The other guys backed up a step, trying to surround her again, but giving her a wider berth.

"Well?" She asked impatiently, shaking blood off her knives. "Are we going to do this or what?" The men all exchanged looks and then charged.

* * *

"Seven guys, all dead. Some kind of sharp instrument, there's a lot of blood." Natasha handed the binoculars over to Barton so he could take a look. They were lying on their stomachs on a rooftop, watching the police examine the crime scene across the street.

"Like a physco with knives?" Barton asked.

"Exactly." Natasha agreed dryly; this assassin was giving them more trouble than any other target they'd had in the past. Barton studied the scene below them. His radio crackled as it turned on in his ear and he set the binoculars down.

"Hill, what've you got for us?"

" _I tracked down your assassin._ " Barton wasn't sure when she became 'their assassin', but that was how everyone referred to her now, " _She has an apartment five blocks away; I'll get you the address._ "

"You sure it's her?"

" _All other apartments were in the renovation stages; she bought an unfinished one. The name on the lease is 'Shay Doe' and it was bought in cash, sight unseen. Also, we've got security camera footage with her on it._ " Using security cameras and checking out leases was below SHIELD, but they had to find her some way. There had been some vigilante work in this part of New York, muggers, drug dealers, crime lords, all found without money, usually left in the middle of the street for easy sightings. They didn't know their assassin's MO, but it was interesting enough to check out and, apparently, they'd made the right call since it led them right to her.

"We're on it." Barton's phone beeped with an incoming message, most likely the address for their assassin.

"She never leaves bodies. Either she's getting crazier-" Natasha started, still watching the crime scene as the bodies were hauled away.

"She's left bodies before."

"People dying from injuries later at the hospital and being found impaled are two different things." Natasha protested as they got up and headed for the stairs to go down to the street. "Are you sure we're dealing with the same person? We might have two vigilantes running around. These guys had wallets on them, money still inside, it looked like." She continued as they jogged down the stairs.

"She needed money before, these guys… I think they came at her and she defended herself."

"Are you defending her?" Natasha looked appalled. And angry.

"I'm saying, this girl has some enemies. This wasn't something she'd planned on."

"The girl collects knives; she always plans to kill someone!" Natasha pushed open the door on the street-level and walked out in a huff. Barton rolled his eyes and followed.

"Nat, I think you're still bent out of shape."

"She threw a knife into my shoulder! A couple inches down and to the right, she would've killed me!"

"To be fair, she was aiming for me, you got in the way."

"I can't believe you!" Natasha snarled.

"Nat, hey, slow down. And I'm not defending her. I'm saying there's a lot more to this than we know and if you rush in all half-cocked and ready to beat her to death, we're not going to get anything."

"She'll talk given the right motivation and SHIELD won't motivate her by locking her in a room and waiting for her to escape. She threw a chair through a window. Imagine if there were agents on the other side."

"She knew there wasn't." Off her look, Barton hurried to add: "Not defending her, just stating the obvious."

"Which is why I have a plan." Natasha assured her partner.

"Which involves what?"

"Not giving the girl any time to bluff her way out."

* * *

Barton stared at the window of the apartment he knew their assassins must've been inside. The curtains were drawn, but he saw a large shadow he assumed was the brother. He had abandoned his bow in favor of a sniper rifle and now he aimed for the shadow.

"Natasha, move, now!" He ordered through his radio. He fired and the shadow collapsed with a bullet embedded in its shoulder, no doubt. Natasha's heavy breathing and groan of annoyance was loud and clear in his ear.

" _She's not here_."

"What do you mean she's not there?"

" _I mean… she's not here!_ "

"What did I just shoot?"

" _A life size cut-out of Ronald McDonald_."

"Well, she sure likes clowning around."

" _I'll shoot you_." Natasha snarled and Barton decided this was no time for jokes.

"Where could she be?" He asked, talking more to himself than to her. There was a tap on his shoulder. He grimaced and turned around, knowing he was completely vulnerable on his stomach on the edge of a roof top. The girl stood over him, smiling.

"Hey, buddy!" She kicked him between the legs and, once he had turned an interesting shade of purple, kicked him off the roof. He dropped the rifle and grabbed onto the edge, holding on by his fingertips. Before he could pull himself up, a rope was tied securely around his wrists, binding them together.

"Bye, buddy." She stomped on his fingers and he fell, only to stop when the rope went taut. He banged against the side of the building and hung there, grinding his teeth together in anger and pain.

" _Clint! Clint, what is going on_?!" Natasha demanded through the radio, her quick, labored breathing telling him she was sprinting down the stairway of the apartment building.

"Uh, Nat… I could use some assistance."


	4. It's A Mad, Mad World

**_Disclaimer: anything you recognize, I do not own_**

* * *

Natasha wasn't usually so uncomfortable when tracking a target. Two months of searching for this Shadow character had put her on edge. Security cameras told them that she had entered a freeway tunnel in a stolen vehicle and never come out the other side. The entire road was shut down for construction and it was the middle of the night, leading the tunnel to be vast, abandoned and dark. Natasha had to bite back a growl as she shined her flashlight around, searching for any sign of the crazy girl she and Barton had somehow gotten themselves involved with.

Missions were usually more cut and dry. This is where the target is. This is what the target is capable of. This is what he named his first pet. This is the last time he visited the bathroom. They usually had _all_ information. This time? They were going in blind, almost literally, with back-up several minutes out due to them stupidly insisting they wanted to go in as quickly as possible so not to lose her. This girl was a wild card. She could have a bomb waiting for them with one of her little notes and be two states away already or she could be chilling out with a soda and an AK-47, ready to blow their heads off up close and personal.

Light reflected back at her; she turned off the flashlight and stepped back against the wall of the tunnel. It had reflected back on her from the car, which meant that Shadow was in the area...

She was just stepping forward, hand reaching towards her radio, when she stepped in a puddle. A frown crossed her face. There was no reason there would be any liquid on the ground in this tunnel. Natasha flicked on her flashlight and looked down. Blood. Lots of it. Natasha whirled around, shining her flashlight everywhere. There was no way Shadow got more than three feet with this amount of blood loss.

"Mind not blinding me with that thing?" A voice slurred and Natasha saw her. Shadow was slouched against the wall of the tunnel, pale, shaking, one hand pressed against her side to try and stop the gushing blood. Natasha tapped her radio.

"Barton, I got her. She's hurt, we need medics, now. Watch your back, hostiles may still be in the area."

"That's nice." Shadow murmured, head lolling off to the side but still managing to give Natasha a patronizing look. "Personally, _I prefer dude, found the smoking hot chick, she's gonna die. Bad guys with gun are still hanging out somewhere, so try and shoot 'em._ But, you know, whatever tickles your peach."

"Tickles my what? Never mind." Natasha was hesitant to get close, but she edged over and kneeled down to examine her wound. "Who did this to you?"

"Guy with a gun."

"Obviously." She tapped her radio again. "Barton-."

" _I've got hostiles on the roof of a building to your south._ "

"What weaponry are we looking at here?" Natasha aimed the question at Shadow, pulling some Telfa pads from her belt and pushing it against the wound. Shadow didn't even seem bothered by the sudden pressure as she blinked and struggled to get out a straight answer.

"Sniper rifle. Scope with laser sight. High caliber."

"They shot you from inside the car?" Natasha glanced at the opening in the roof of the tunnel, part of the over-pass ahead of them. It was an incredible shot, a shot that told her someone very powerful wanted Shadow very dead.

"Actually they shot me in the middle of my duck and roll, which was perfectly executed until they put a hole in me. Threw off my landing." Natasha ignored her and relayed the information to her partner.

" _I figured that, judging by the shot._ "

"Do you want back-up?"

" _No, stay the kid._ " Natasha would have rather gone to face a trained sniper than stay with the crazy kid, but she could tell Barton wasn't in the mood to argue and it would waste time anyway.

"I'll send our back-up to you and get the medics to us." She compromised.

" _Alright. Barton out_." His radio clicked off.

"This is Romanoff, I need medics to my position, Barton needs backup. Building on the north side." Natasha wished she could give more information than that, but she was preoccupied with trying to save the stupid, crazy assassin's life. She had blood on her hands and for a second she stared at them; how long had it been since she'd had blood on her hands that wasn't her doing? How long since she'd _wanted_ Shadow's blood on her hands from her own doing?

"It's blood, no nuclear waste. Chill out."

"I'm not panicked." Natasha told her in a snarl. She looked up and down the tunnel for any sign of the medics.

"Look at us, working together. Never though that would happen..."

"Shut up and save your strength. We still need information out of you." Shadow's eyes fluttered shut and her body slipped towards the side. Natasha grabbed her, catching her. Shadow was limp in her arms, her skin even paler than when Natasha had seen her. Natasha lowered her down onto the ground so she was lying down and tried to keep pressure on the wound.

Natasha tossed her hair out of her face and clenched her jaw. This was _not_ what she signed up for, fighting to keep an enemy alive. She wished those medics would hurry it up already.

"Stay alive." She snarled. "We still need information out of you."

* * *

Shadow woke up with a low groan, blinking and looking around the bright white hospital room. Barton saw she was awake and leaned forward.

"How ya feeling?"

"Like I got shot."

"Want to tell me how that happened?" He questioned. Shadow grimaced as she shifted positions.

"Well, someone had a gun. They pointed it at me and pulled the trigger."

"I got the guy cornered and he popped a cyanide." Barton explained, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. "So who wants you dead badly enough that they'd send a guy like that after you and make sure he couldn't talk?"

"We're in a hospital. You think they won't try again?" She asked instead.

"Nat's outside the door, nothing is getting past her."

"Oh, I feel so safe." Gunshot wound or not, her sarcasm was still in perfect working order.

"We just saved your life, kid. Now we need you to answer some questions."

"Depends on the question." She shot him a dazzling smile. "But first… Maybe some food?" She asked, her smile fading into something less dazzling and more hopeful. Barton nodded and stood up.

"Fine. I'll get you some food. You're not going anywhere." He motioned to her wrist, handcuffed to the bed. She glanced down at it and frowned. "Nat's outside if you need anything." He strode out, letting the door shut behind him. As soon as he was gone, she reached up for the bobby-pin in her hair. It was gone. Well, at least they were getting smarter… Shadow groaned and leaned back against the pillows to wait.

Natasha opened the door and edged into the room. Shadow raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"You're insane." Natasha told her simply. "But Barton believes that you've just been used. So tell me… KGB?"

"No idea what that is." Natasha nodded acceptingly.

"Then what was it? What sort of organization takes little kids and turns them into…" She trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Monsters?" Shadow suggested.

"Yes." Natasha had no problem agreeing with that.

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

"Hydra."

"Hydra's gone. SHIELD destroyed Hydra almost seventy years ago."

"No, no, they didn't. But that's not the only question you had for me, is it?"

"How do you look-."

"Young and beautiful?"

"Young." Natasha agreed halfway. Barton came back into the room with a tray of food. It didn't look appetizing to Natasha but, evidently, it was to Shadow. She perked right up and Barton put the tray on her lap and settled back down in the chair. Natasha grabbed another one and parked herself on the other side of the girl's bed. Barton beat her to questioning the blonde.

"Alright. Tell me what happened to you, kid."

* * *

Shadow may not have been the luckiest person in the world, but she was starting to feel privileged. She looked around the loft apartment in slight awe. She was sure that it had been bugged thoroughly, but she didn't care. When she did talk to herself, she didn't give away important information. And anything of importance had already been given away. She turned to Barton and Natasha, the twisting motion of her hips making her wince inwardly and put a hand on the bandage underneath her t-shirt.

"You do like me." She smiled and covered her motion of pain by folding her arms.

"I hate you." Natasha corrected.

"This place is owned by SHIELD, not by you." Barton clarified. She smiled again and nodded encouragingly for him to continue. She knew the whole smile-and-nod-and-don't-attack drill by now; Natasha had made sure she knew what would happen to her should she decide to get violent.

"Don't suppose that you can give me back what you took?"

"And what would that be?" Barton questioned.

"I had a backpack. Clothes, food, my _sword_."

"Ah, yes, and you thought I was strange for using a bow and arrow."

"Can I have it back?" She asked, annoyed.

"We're not arming you." Shadow looked ready to scream or murder someone, but Barton went on calmly. "We will have eyes on you twenty-four-seven. The first time anyone tries to kill you we'll capture him and confirm your story about Hydra. For now, we've got people looking into that."

"Oh, do you?" Shadow questioned. She was still pale, the bandage on her side could be seen through her shirt and Barton had half a foot of height on her... Yet she still managed to look patronizing.

"Former head of SHIELD, now on the world council. He's got connections and he wanted to take over."

"I feel so safe."

"Cut the sarcasm." Natasha snapped, pacing around the room with her arms crossed against her chest. Shadow shot her a dirty look, just because. Barton walked over to her and slapped something on her wrist. She looked down at the clunky metal bracelet.

"Not my style."

"Don't care." Barton shot back and it was his turn to get a death look. "This will track your every movement. Go ahead; try taking it off this time." He encouraged. Shadow certainly gave it her best shot, but it was locked on tight around her wrist.

"Okay, this isn't cool." She protested.

"It also alerts us if you're doing anything… well, criminal."

"It tells you what I'm doing?"

"To some extent, yes." He agreed. Now Shadow was looking downright pissed off. Barton patted her arm patronizingly. "You have a good day now." With that, he and Natasha walked out of the apartment and shut the door behind them. Shadow raced forward to lock the door, like that would keep SHIELD agents out if they wanted in. Turning, she pressed her back against the wood of the door and wondered what the heck she had gotten herself into.

She was bait, but Hydra wasn't going to come after her with SHIELD watching. With SHIELD watching, she couldn't go after Hydra. She was at an impasse. And she hated impasses…

* * *

Steve Rogers opened his eyes slowly, still half asleep. The sounds of a baseball game were coming from a radio and he listened for a moment before forcing himself up into a sitting position. There were sounds of traffic from the window and he jerked around to look, his mind racing. He looked at the radio, listening again.

The door opened and he turned. A red-haired woman in uniform came in and shut the door softly behind her, giving him quick smile.

"Good morning." She checked her watch. "Or should I say afternoon."

"Where am I?" He demanded.

"You're in a recovery room in New York City." He considered this for a moment and then looked back at the woman.

"Where am I, _really_?" The woman scoffed uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"The game. It's from May. Nineteen-forty-one. And I know because I was there." He slowly stood up and the woman started looking very nervous. "Now. I'm going to ask you again. Where am I?"

"Captain Rogers-."

"Who are you?" The door opened and armed men came in, causing Steve to jump back.

A second later, they flew through the wall of the room and he jumped out of the hole they'd made. He was in some kind of much larger room; the room he'd been in was just a set-up. He looked around for a moment, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Captain Rogers, wait!" The woman cried, hurrying out after him, but he was already running. She pulled out her radio and spoke into it. "All agents, code thirteen!"

Steve heard her from the hallway, since it was being broadcast over the speakers. Everyone turned towards him and he took off running. Out of the building… into the street…. down the street. He got a block before it finally sunk in that this New York was not _his_ New York. He slowed to a stop, looking around in confusion and a hint of fear.

Black SUV's pulled up all around him, effectively surrounding him as he looked for an escape.

"At ease, soldier." A man called out, walking towards him. Steve turned. "Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there, but… we thought it best to break it to you slowly."

"Break what?"

"You've been asleep, Cap. For almost seventy years." Steve took this in, breathing heavily. He glanced around again. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah… It just… I had a date."


	5. Fathers and Daughters

**_Disclaimer: anything you recognize, I do not own_**

* * *

Barton didn't know when he'd been downgraded to messenger. Maybe no one else wanted to go talk to Shadow. _Yeah, that's probably it,_ he decided. He waited by an alley, looking down at his phone. The red dot that was Shadow was moving steadily towards him. He looked up and spotted her, blonde ponytail swishing in the air.

"Underground fight club? Didn't know they still had those." Shadow whirled to look at Barton, arms going up to punch him. He had wisely stayed out of arms reach and he held his arms up to show he wasn't holding a weapon, though he had his bow strapped to his back.

"They have them. If you know where to look." She told him wearily, dropping her arms.

"You know, you're an assassin. Not really a fair fight." He told her.

"All's fair in money and war."

"Pretty sure you misquoted that, kid."

"Why are you here?" Her patience was already wearing thin; apparently she wasn't in a very humorous mood that night. She hadn't taken any hits from her opponents but beating up random people had tired her out. A wad of money was sticking out of her pants pocket; a pretty decent amount for a night's work. Barton was mildly impressed at her resourcefulness when it came to getting money.

"We have to talk." He told her.

"I seriously doubt we _have_ to. You may _want_ to, but we don't _have_ to." She put an emphasis on each word, drawing them out like he didn't know the meanings.

"Alright, I want to talk." He amended, humoring her.

"But I don't, so have a horrible night." She bowed dramatically and then turned on her heel, walking away. He hurried after her, keeping a good couple feet between them in case she decided to spin around and try to kick him in the head.

"You heal fast." Barton noted.

"Thanks."

"Look, Rogers-."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? It's your name; it's what you want, right?" Shadow didn't seem to have an answer for that, so Barton continued: "I was sent to deliver a message."

"Sorry, inbox is full."

"Oh, very funny." He applauded sarcastically, humoring her. She smirked.

"You know, under different circumstances, we could've been great friends." She told him.

"Who says we can't now?"

"Me." She jumped forward and twirled with the grace of a professional dancer. Barton stepped back, but her round-house kick still clipped his jaw. He went down and rolled, immediately getting to his feet.

"Alright, alright, hey." He held up his hands and she paused, if only to see what he was going to say next. "How about I make you a deal?"

"The last deal I made ended up with me getting tagged and caged like an animal." She held up her wrist with the bracelet on it for emphasis. It was scratched up; she'd obviously been attempting to get it off again. Barton just hoped she wouldn't get desperate and decide she could live with just one hand. "And I've probably got some forty year old pervert watching me undress every night."

"Hey, Donny is forty-three and we've talked to him about that!" Shadow had no idea whether or not he was serious, so she just stared at him. "SHIELD sent me to talk to you. You win the fight, I go explain to them you're not in the mood. I win and you sit down like a good girl and listen."

"You want to fight _me_?" She laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. He, however, liked his chances. She was tired, she was cocky and, no matter how fast she'd healed, a good hit her old wound was going to leave her on the ground. He wasn't fond of fighting a nineteen year old girl, but a deal was a deal. And she was taking his deal.

"Alright, let's go, old man." She stripped off her jacket and tossed it onto the top of a dumpster. He was very glad the back alley was abandoned; this was not something he wanted people seeing and calling the police about. Barton was fairly certain she had some sort of sharp object on her, but he took off his weapons anyway, hoping she'd play nice. Once his weapons were next to her jacket, he beckoned her forward.

"Let's go, kid."

* * *

"So how was the cabin?" Fury questioned. Steve Rogers stat in front of his desk, looking nervous and exhausted at the same time. Adjusting to the twenty-first century would be hard on anyone; even Fury was sympathetic to his plight. The cabin was more of a SHIELD hide out than anything else, which meant it had been safe for Steve to spend a week there, to come to term with everything and adjust.

Now it was time for Fury to slap him in the face with more information. He threw down a file in front of Steve and he perked up a bit, reaching for it and eyeing Fury somewhat suspiciously. Fury just folded his hands against his stomach and sighed.

"You and Agent Carter were in a relationship before your... uncharted flight." Steve's hands paused, the file halfway open. The outside said 'top secret', but he was figuring that everything was pretty top secret in the New York SHIELD base. It was Fury's words that made him stop.

"I... uh... We were together, yeah."

"And your, lets call it _unorthodox 1940's behavior,_ resulted in someone you will very much want to meet." Fury motioned towards the file and, eyes wide with concern and confusion, Steve flipped it open. A picture met his eyes, SHIELD's version of a mugshot, with the blonde girl shown looking bored and examining her fingernails.

There were pages of information on her, but Steve's eyes were glued to a line of text that plainly stated her parents: Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter. He closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that this wasn't true. It couldn't be. The girl was, what, nineteen? After almost seventy years? He looked up at Fury, his eyes begging for an explanation.

"We're not sure what exactly happened. She's claiming Hydra..." Steve tensed. "But we're looking into it. Her name's Sarah, but she goes by Shadow. Congratulations, Captain, you have a daughter."

* * *

 _Her father was alive._ Shadow sat on her bed, unsure of how she felt about that. Barton had told her most of the story during the times he had her pinned down and the border-line order that she was going to let Steve live with her was pretty much shouted as she was walking away. Steve Rogers was alive. The super-soldier. The hero. The legend. And he was going to live with his assassin daughter? It didn't sit right with Shadow on more than one level.

 _It was his fault,_ she told herself. It was his fault that she was taken by Hydra. If he hadn't taken that stupid super soldier serum, if he hadn't crashed his plane into the ice, if he hadn't slept with her mother… It was all his fault. It felt good to blame someone else for once.

Sooner or later, she was going to have to get over it. Steve was going to live with her. She was going to have a father. But she didn't like to adapt. She would fight tooth and nail to _avoid_ adapting. This was no exception. But fighting tooth and nail didn't always get her what she wanted.

Her phone beeped and she turned. Barton. Of course it was Barton. Who else knew her? She was sure Natasha would've rather cut out her tongue than talk to her again. She picked up her phone and answered it somewhat reluctantly, knowing what he was going to say.

"How long do I have?"

" _Five minutes._ " Five minutes until Steve Rogers was walking through her door. _Well, going back to sleep isn't an option,_ she thought, climbing out of bed. " _And I'm watching you. Don't make us regret this._ " Barton added, almost as an afterthought.

"Now how would I go about doing that?" She asked.

" _Don't act like a psychopath._ "

"According to Nat, that's my default mode."

" _Well, try another default mode._ "

"Do this, do that, don't do this, don't do that. Honestly, you annoy me." With that said, she hung up and threw her phone back onto the bed. She made quick work of getting dressed; it didn't take long to throw on jeans and a black crop-top that hung loose on her. Hopefully that would suggest she came in peace, like Barton wanted. Somehow, coming down in her pajamas or wearing all leather and put on eye-shadow so she looked like a raccoon both sounded out of the question. Still pulling her hair up into a ponytail, she made her way downstairs. She still had two minutes. She figured she'd brew some coffee and work on her greeting. Barton was watching her. She wondered if a sniper rifle was involved if she didn't behave herself.

She had just hit the kitchen when the door swung open. Snatching a knife, she whirled and threw it. It embedded itself in the door frame, narrowly missing the SHIELD agent.

"I thought you weren't allowed to have knives anymore!" The Agent protested.

"They confiscated my collection. That's a kitchen knife. Balance is off." She complained. The Agent narrowed his eyes at her and she just stared right back at him.

"This is Steve Rogers." He side-stepped out of the way, allowing Steve to step into the apartment. He was looking very weary and nervous. Probably because he just recently found out he has a daughter and then that daughter almost killed someone.

"I was told I had five minutes."

"Someone miscalculated."

"That door was locked."

"I was given a key."

"I hate you." She didn't know the man, but she knew she hated him already.

"You hate everyone."

"Also true."

"Play nice."

"Bite me." The Agent handed a key to Steve and then walked out, making sure to shut the door with some unnecessary force behind him. Steve jumped a little, looking behind him at the closed door, then turned back around to face Shadow.

She looked like Peggy; the resemblance was stunning. Her hair was Steve's color, though, and styled differently than Peggy would have ever had it: straight and slightly messy despite being mostly contained in a ponytail. But her face and eyes were all Peggy. From what Steve could judge, she was tall for a woman, only a couple inches below six foot. Her outfit was something no woman in the forties would've even though to wear and she had a bracelet on her wrist that looked high-tech and resembled a shackle, but she held herself like she was the most important person in the world and that he should treat her as such. Steve couldn't bring himself to speak at first. Luckily, Shadow had no problem talking.

"Hi." She greeted him tonelessly, striding over and offering a hand. Up close, he could see her skin was far from perfect; she had scars and Steve wasn't sure he wanted to know how she got them, considering how painful they must've been. She even had scars on her ankles, something he could see because of her bare feet. He hadn't expected her toenails to be painted a bright red either, but they were. There was another scar peeking out from the hem of her crop-top, looking recent and painful. There were more, smaller, harder to see, but still visible to Steve's eyes.

Finally realizing that Shadow had greeted him, Steve stuck out a hand. She took it and gave it a quick shake before dropping her hands and folding her arms.

"Hi." He returned. She nodded to him, a quick, respectful nod that Steve would've gotten from an army man. She reminded him of a soldier, in fact. The stiff way she stood, how alert she acted. Why did he immediately think of a soldier when looking at his own kid? But she wasn't a kid. SHIELD had tried to prepare him for that. They had been quick to tell him how she fought and killed without remorse. The word 'crazy' was thrown out a couple times.

"So what did they tell you about little ole me?" She questioned, going back towards the kitchen. Steve put his duffel bag down on the floor and awkwardly followed her.

"Not much." That was somewhat true; they'd told him next to nothing compared to what he wanted to know.

"Yeah, well, I'm a hard person to figure out. I don't have coffee. You want soda?"

"Sure, thank you."

"Now, let me guess. Stop me if I'm wrong." She told him with a smirk, ducking down and disappearing behind the fridge door. "They said I'm an impulsive, manipulative psychopath with some mad bluffing skills?" She reappeared, kicking the fridge door shut and offering him a can of soda. He took it.

"Uh… Well…"

"I'm not wrong, am I?" Actually, that was remarkably close to what they'd told him. He said nothing, taking a drink of the highly caffeinated drink to buy himself time. "Aw, you're shy. That's cute." She told him in a patronizing tone that told him being shy was not encouraged in her apartment.

"Just… adjusting." He told her. She studied him for a moment, hazel eyes darting up and down.

"What am I to you?" She asked suddenly.

"The daughter I should've been there for." He answered instantly. That seemed to make her suspicious. She glanced past him at his bag, one eyebrow raised.

"That's all you've got?"

"Didn't exactly have a whole lot of stuff with me when I went under."

"Touche." She shrugged it off, took a long drink of her soda and then set it down on the counter. "Besides my charming personality, how much else do you know?"

Steve set his own can of soda down, putting his hands on his lap, trying to hide how he was rubbing them together nervously. He had wanted to meet her, he'd never deny that. But this wasn't what he expected. He didn't expect her to run and hug him and immediately call him 'dad' but he had hoped for something better than this.

"Someone took you away from your mother and turned you into an assassin."

"I say it was Hydra. Yea or nay?"

"I don't know yet." He felt like he was being interrogated. The way she looked at him made it clear that this _was_ an interrogation.

"Yet? Clarify."

"I want to hear your story directly from you."

"So you don't trust SHIELD?"

"I don't know who to trust." She paused with her questions, considering this. Then she took a slow drink of her soda and nodded acceptingly.

"Acceptable. You know, I think I'm going to like you." She told him, giving him a genuine smile. "One sec and I'll give you the tour." She went over to a notepad on the counter, took a marker and scribbled the words 'Everyone Is Alive. Panic Over. Go Away.' on a page. She ripped the page out, took a piece of tape and went over to the sliding glass doors leading onto the balcony. She went outside just long enough to tape the paper to the door and then ducked back in.

Off Steve's look, she just rolled her eyes and made a lazy motion with her hand.

"They've always got someone watching me. They don't trust me." She yanked the knife out of the door frame and returned it to the kitchen counter. Then she turned back around to look at him. "So, you want the tour or what?"

* * *

 _ **A/N We're moving onto the first Avengers movie after this, but there will still be a lot of character/relationship development between Steve and Shadow. I hope I did well on their meeting; I figured with Steve being fresh out of the ice and Shadow being herself, neither one of them were going to be enthusiastic about meeting the other. Anyway, please review and tell me what you think!**_


	6. From the Depths of the Ocean

**_Disclaimer: anything you recognize, I do not own_**

 **A/N I had expected to update much quicker, but obviously that didn't happen. I'd had a plan for what I wanted to do, then I rethought it and am doing something almost completely different. But I will be continuing to update this story, so that's the good news. I hope you like this chapter, as we are moving into our Avengers phase. Comments, questions or even constructive criticism are welcome, just please review and tell me what you think!**

* * *

Back in his time, Steve had thought of having a family, but it always seemed so unlikely for him. No girl so much wanted to dance with him, let alone settle down with him. When the war started, it didn't seem to matter as much. When he met Peggy and became Captain America, it started to matter again, but his thoughts mainly remained on the war. Throughout those scattered thoughts of having a child, he had never imagined it being as it was with Shadow.

She wasn't touchy-feely, she wasn't open or emotional. She would rather go on a run than talk to him in the morning. And her idea of a run apparently involved a dead sprint for as long as possible. She would come back, eat lunch, something she rarely had an excuse to skip with him and then retreat to her room. She insisted that dinner was eaten on the couch while she introduced him to movies, books or TV shows he'd missed, which left little room for talking. She claimed to go to bed early, but he could always see a light underneath her door until early hours of the morning. She was constantly on edge. The only real times he'd seen her relax was when he'd managed to totally distract her, usually with stories of the war or by working out with her. Once she had even a second where she wasn't totally distracted, she was back to being a soldier on guard.

Still, he learned little things about her. She preferred soda and coffee over anything else. She rarely smiled; if she was amused, she let him known with a quirk of her lips. She hated being called Sarah. In fact, she never responded to her real name and he'd learned very quickly to just call her 'Shadow'. She hated being touched. She loved music. She was the sassiest person Steve had ever met; thinking of how she and Bucky would've gone at it never failed to simultaneously amuse and sadden Steve. She was stir crazy. Steve was told she was under the careful eye of SHIELD, but she seemed to think it was worse than it was. She was always fidgeting, pacing. If she left the apartment, it was to go out sprinting, shop for the essentials and then return acting angrier and more on edge than before.

It took two weeks before he heard her laugh. She had left for her morning sprint and he'd decided to go and run with her after she'd left. He caught up to her easily and announced 'on your left' as he passed. Obviously, she had expected that, because she tripped and face-planted on the concrete. He stopped and gone back to her, sure she'd just taken the skin off her entire face, but she was sitting up and actually laughing, though there was some dirt on her cheek now.

"Jeez, you are fast." She told him, pushing herself to her feet.

"Thought I'd join you."

"You mean you want to see if I can keep up with you?"

"Well..." He actually hadn't thought about it; she'd been captured because she had inherited some of the serum. But she smirked at him like he had just had the greatest idea in the world.

"You're on." With that, she took off sprinting and he'd had to take off after her.

After that, they were a bit more comfortable with each other. She wasn't open or touchy-feely but she was a bit less on edge. He wasn't sure what exactly had triggered that. Maybe it was because he'd shown her that he actually _wanted_ to be with her, he wasn't being forced to interact with her by SHIELD. But, in any case, she wasn't so against him anymore.

He sat on the metro train, watching the view go by. He had been slowly exploring the new New York City. It gave him a chance to get out and think, something he could never do enough.

Three weeks. He'd been unfrozen for three weeks, one spent out in the middle of nowhere and two with Shadow. It seemed like so much longer and yet so much shorter at the same time.

"Hey." Steve jumped and whirled. Shadow was sitting behind him, with her infamous smirk.

"How long have you-?"

"Since you got on. You're unobservant when you're thinking." She stood up in her seat, swung her leg over the back of his and sat down next to him.

"You've been following me?" He questioned; honestly, he was just surprised she'd gone this far from her apartment.

"I was bored; I had to make my own fun. Also, SHIELD agents came to our apartment." She informed him casually.

"What for?"

"I don't know. Not completely sure they were SHIELD either." Shadow explained, glancing subtly around the train. Steve was beginning to think she was a bit paranoid, but he figured she deserved a little slack after what she'd gone through, whether it was Hydra or not. She had scars and stories behind those scars that he'd just begun to hear; if she thought she was in danger, he was on alert.

She looked ready to run. Not in a morning routine way in sweatpants and a tank top, but in a disappear sort of way. She wore black pants, combat boots, a grey tank top and a green army jacket. All of it said that she was going to blend into a crowd, kick butt easily if cornered and keep warm outside. Her hair was tied back in a braid and tucked underneath the collar of her jacket.

Steve's hand went towards her shoulder, but she flinched away from his touch and his hand dropped. She looked out the window.

"We're getting off at this stop." She announced matter-of-factly. He wasn't about to argue; he trusted her to know what she was doing when it came to avoiding possible danger.

She led him off the metro train as soon as it stopped and kept moving so silently and swiftly he actually found it hard to keep up and keep her in sight. She glanced over her shoulder and slowed somewhat reluctantly so he could fall into step beside her. Shadow seemed to know where she was going; she went straight to what was a gym closed for the night and kneeled down to pick the lock with a pin from her hair.

"What's the plan?" Steve asked.

"Run. Hide. Kill. Repeat as necessary. The only SHIELD agent I trust is Barton and he wasn't there. I checked." She assured him in a devil-may-care tone. Like this was just an adventure that she wanted to see play out. Like if someone shot her, she'd be able to joke about it. She shouldered open the door and slipped inside. He followed her in and she shut the door behind them.

"You're subtly is to be admired." A voice said behind them and Shadow whirled, pulling something long and shiny from her sleeve. Steve put his arm up to stop her as Fury watched them with interest. "But you do have a tracker attached to your wrist, so..."

"You here with a mission, sir?" Steve cut in. He could feel Shadow shaking anger and wisely kept his arm up to separate her from Fury. Fury flipped the lights on, momentarily blinding them and Shadow lunged against Steve's arm. He pushed her back and reached to grab the pocket knife from her hand, but she quickly stepped out of his reach.

"Here." Fury handed Steve a file, not even bothering to watch Shadow as she edged away from them. Steve gave him a questioning look, but opened the file. He examined the pictures inside and then looked back at Fury.

"Hydra's secret weapon." Shadow slowly edged forward again, wanting a look at the file.

"Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think, the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs."

"Who took it from you?"

"He's called Loki. He's not from around here."

"Name like that? Must be from Crazy Town." Shadow murmured and Steve and Fury both looked at her, knowing there was more she wanted to say. "Where's Barton and why did you send some agents to my apartment without warning?"

"Barton's been compromised."

"Great. That explains everything, thanks so much." Sarcasm rolled off her tongue easily, though she still held her knife up threatening.

"There's a lot we'll have to bring you both up to speed on if you're in."

"In? In on what?" Shadow demanded.

"Stopping this threat."

"I don't stop threats, I _am_ a threat!" Shadow felt compelled to point out. She lowered her knife, rolling her eyes at the pure stupidity of Fury's offer.

"Someone took this from you and is trying to take over the world?" Steve asked, sounding annoyed and frustrated.

"The world has gotten even stranger than you already know."

"At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me."

"Ten bucks says you're wrong. There's a debriefing package waiting for you back at your apartment." Fury informed them.

"Ooh, does it have connect the dots and crossword puzzles?" Shadow asked with a light laugh. Fury looked at her with a tight smile but addressed Steve again.

"Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?"

"You should've left it in the ocean." Steve turned and walked out of the gym with an air of finality. Shadow glanced at Fury and then followed him, letting the door bang shut behind her and jogging to catch up with Steve's brisk walk.

It didn't take a genius to see that he was upset now. She'd pushed him for two weeks, testing him in any way possible to see who he really was and he'd been nothing but patient with her. One conversation with Fury and suddenly he was borderline furious. That in itself was enough to interest her.

"I get that people are annoying but you seem a bit peeved." She noted, folding up her knife and sticking it back up her sleeve as she caught up with him.

"They should've left it in the ocean."

"Yeah, I got that when you said it five seconds ago."

"If the one person gets a hold of that, it's World War 2 all over again!"

"History repeating itself minus the cute girl you can... _fondue_... right?" She asked, arching an eyebrow. He shot her a look and she shrugged it off, turning to look ahead of her again. "Just saying, wars are going to happen. Might as well keep far, far away from them. I'm saying we go to Hawaii. Hear there's hot surfer dudes there."

"And leave SHIELD to try and deal with... whatever this is?" He demanded.

"We don't owe anyone anything." She told him pointedly, tossing her braid that had come loose from behind her collar.

"Innocent people are going to die if this Loki takes the tesseract and-." Shadow stopped walking and Steve halted as well, her glaring eyes stopping him short.

"Innocent people? No such thing. Also, I don't care. I care about myself and, like, two other people. I am _not_ going to loose sleep over people I don't know."

"That's the difference between us-."

"Oh, honey, there's a lot more differences between us than that." She told him in that patronizing tone he'd grown accustomed to hearing. She turned and hurried back towards the apartment, putting a lot of distance between them in a short amount of time, effectively ending their conversation.

* * *

Steve didn't want to go into another war. But with the Tesseract out there... The next morning he found himself putting on his jacket and preparing to head down to the airfield where a quin-jet was waiting for him. Footsteps sounded from behind him and he didn't bother to turn around.

"Should I expect you to be in Hawaii by the time I get back?"

"I'm going too." Shadow ground out. He turned to look at her. She had a black backpack slung over one shoulder, dressed very similarly as the day before.

"What?"

"You heard me." She snapped, brushing past him to get to the door. "SHIELD wants to play ball, fine. Anything that gets them to leave me alone and get _this_ off." She held up her wrist to show the tech-bracelet.

"So you're doing this for you."

"Finally, you're starting to get it." She smirked and then stormed out the door.

* * *

Shadow wasn't claustrophobic. She wasn't afraid of heights. But being in a metal container thousands of in the air? Not her idea of fun, if she was being honest. Watching Agent Phil Coulson fanboy over her father, however, was exactly her idea of fun. She pretended to read her battered copy of The Maze Runner but she couldn't stop herself from peeking over the top of it every once and a while.

Steve was reading the files on the rest of the 'Avengers' and didn't even notice how Coulson was staring at him.

"So this Dr. Banner was trying to replicate the serum that was used on me?" Steve questioned, eyes still glued to the file.

"A lot of people were." Coulson explained and neither one of them missed how Shadow's hands clenched around her book at his words. "You were the world's first superhero."

"Unless you count Superman. First comic was published in 1938." Shadow piped up.

"He's not real." Coulson told her.

"Not with that attitude he's not..."

"Well, anyway." Coulson said, turning back to Steve. "Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."

"Didn't really go his way, did it?"

"Not so much. When he's not that thing, though, guy's like a Stephen Hawking." He explained. Steve looked at Shadow for an explanation. She didn't miss a beat.

"He's like a really smart dude."

"You know, I gotta say, it's an honor to finally meet you, officially. I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping. I mean, I was present when you were unconscious." Despite Coulson's attempts to salvage his own awkward words, Shadow nearly fell out out of her seat laughing. Steve fought back a smile himself while Coulson just started to look uncomfortable.

"Ooh, whoa." Shadow said, still giggling like a school girl. "Thank you, Agent Coulson. You just made my day." She winked at him and then went back to her book.

The plane lightly touched down a few minutes later and Shadow followed the men off the quin-jet. They appeared to be on some sort of aircraft carrier, in the middle of the ocean no less. _Nowhere to hide for miles around, they have the advantage if it comes to a fire-fight... Awesome,_ she thought to herself. She shrugged her shoulder, letting her backpack slide down her arm so she could unzip it. She stuffed her book inside and quickly slipped a knife up her sleeve.

When she looked up, Steve had already gone over to talk to who Shadow could only assume was Dr. Banner, given the nervous way he was acting. Right beside him was Natasha Romanoff. Shadow, hating her inability to just take off and disappear, hurried to catch up with them in time to catch the end of Banner's comment to Steve:

"Must be strange for you... all of this."

"Well, this is actually kind of familiar."

"Bunch of monkeys running around taking orders? Must be..." Shadow grumbled, tossing her hair out of her face. Steve glanced at her but Natasha was speaking before he could say whatever he wanted to.

"You might want to step inside. It's going to get a bit hard to breathe in a minute."

"Is this a submarine?" Steve questioned.

"Really, they want me in a pressurized metal container? No, this is much worse." Banner informed them as they stepped closer to the edge. Turbines were spinning below them and slowly Shadow felt the carrier lift into the air. _Oh, yeah,_ she thought, _this is much worse_. Having seen enough, they slowly followed Natasha into the hallways of the carrier.

"So what happened to Barton?" Shadow finally questioned and saw Natasha's jaw clench.

"He's been compromised."

"Yeah, see, that can mean a lot of different things. Has he suddenly become addicted to Lucky Charms and they appear to be mind-controlling him. Is he driving a wheelchair with his tongue now? I mean, be specific."

"Uh... Is she always like this?" Bruce asked Steve quietly from behind the women.

"Every day."

"Oh."

"He's being mind-controlled." Natasha explained shortly to Shadow.

"By Lucky Charms?"

"By _Loki._ " Natasha snapped. She led them into the bridge. While Steve paused to talk to Fury, Shadow moved look at the wall of windows overlooking the sky below them. Shadow felt herself pale. _Confining hallways. Everyone armed. No escape._ This was _not_ what she'd signed up for. She clutched her backpack straps and turned back around to look around the bridge, trying to keep an eye on everyone at once. Even the computer techs could be dangerous. She was on high alert. She hated that she had to be. But they had just put her in a cage without telling her.

 _If we're still over water, can I survive the jump? How far would I have to swim? Are we near Hawaii?_ She wondered. Some part of her mind registered that people were talking louder now. The word 'shadow' was thrown out, but she didn't pay attention.

"тень!" She whirled at the Russian, eyes flaring and instantly focusing on Natasha. "Come with me." With that, the red head walked out of the room. Shadow hesitated, then hurried after her and Bruce.


End file.
